Page 20 of Diesel

I turned and found three men waiting. Another two slid from their booth and joined the six around around me.

Fucked.

“Brothers of Chaos,” one of the men said. “Motherfuckers are the ones who killed the Messengers’ president.”

“That’s right,” I said.

I couldn’t see the fist coming from behind, so when it landed, I went face-first to the floor and gasped when a foot in the ribs knocked every bit of wind from my lungs. I coughed and spat blood on the floor. The next booted foot sent me rolling into the three guys behind me.

Fucked without ever throwing a punch.

“Get up, bitch,” someone said, and then a gunshot sent everyone sprawling for cover. Four more shots rang overhead, and the whole damn place fell quiet.

“The next motherfucker that moves gets a bullet to the empty skull.”

The female voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. A soft, gentle hand landed on my wrist.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I said. Standing, Trixie handed me the AK she’d fired at the ceiling. The bitch bikers were still in hiding. They weren’t one percenters. They were wannabes.

“Fucking rib is broken,” I said.

“Come on before one of these assholes decides to get brave.”

Trixie and I backed our way and left the bar. Outside, I climbed on my bike, and Trixie climbed into the car Gigi had seen following us. I emptied the AK’s clip into the row of bikes and watched the explosions with great joy.

“Are you done playing Call of Duty?” Trixie asked. “Follow me.”

“You know where Gigi is?”

“I think so, but you and I are not going in with guns blazing without help.”

Trixie pulled away from the bar parking lot, and I followed, feeling like a rib was moving out of place. I didn’t need a voice to tell me people needed to die. Life punched, and I would happily return the favor.

Trixie pulled into a cheap motel on the edge of town. The neon sign buzzed and flickered, the M in the motel sign dark. I’d stayed in plenty of OTELS in my life.

Trixie opened a door, Room 116, tossed the keys on a battered table, crossed the dingy carpet, and started the shower in a bathroom no self-respecting woman wanted any part of. I liked her choice of motels.

“You going to tell me what the fuck is going on? Why the fuck have you been following me, and where the actual fuck is Gigi?”

“There’s a biker club two miles down the road, behind a bunch of trees. It’s hard to see but not so hard that I couldn’t see the twenty or so bikes parked outside. There are armed guards outside the club.”

Trixie started to undress, and that’s when I saw the blood on her shirt. “Are you hit?”

Trixie chuckled. “Not a chance. I had to fight my way to the front door. Seems the two men waiting at the front, the ones you didn’t kill, weren’t keen on me bringing the AK into the club.”

“Well, that explains how you got in.” I walked into the bathroom, eyeballing the naked Trixie but finding myself uninterested. Maybe I’d had a breakthrough? “Now, why the fuck were you following?”

“Watcher and Slash sent you to pick up a woman at the Holiday Inn a few years ago. You remember that?” She stepped into the shower, and a crimson swirl gathered around the drain.

“Yeah. A hot piece of ass. She wouldn’t let me take her back to the club.” What the fuck was going on? “Why do you care?”

“The woman’s name was Kristen—my sister.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. You were the last known person with her.”

“Wait a second. You think I killed her?” I pushed back the shower curtain. “I fucked her. I didn’t kill her.”

---